"You will not countenance wrong, but fiercely war for the right Even unto the bitter death." Very good, you should do so, But, my friend, if your own secret thought had blossomed to light In temptation, you might have been in this outcast's place, you know. So let us be pitiful, grateful that God's strong hand Has held our own, and the tale of a woman's despair And penitent sin, He stooped and wrote in the perishing sand; We carve the record in stone, weak, sinful souls that we are. In the arms of the kind all-mother, but close to the sorrowful wave, With its voice no longer moaning to her a despairing call, But a dirge deploring and deep; we will make her grave, With healing grasses above her, and God over all. MY ANGEL. Last night she came unto me, And kneeling by my side, Laid her head upon my bosom, My beautiful, my bride; My lost one, with her soft dark eyes, And waves of sunny hair. I smoothed the shining tresses, With tearful, fond caresses, And words of thankful prayer. And then a thrill of doubt and pain, My jealous heart swept o'er; We were parted--she was dwelling Upon a far-off shore; Yet He who made my sad heart, knew I loved her more and more; My love more true and perfect grew, As each dark day passed o'er; But she whose heart had been my own, Who loved me tenderly, Whose last low words I knelt to hear, Were, "How can I leave thee?" And "Death would seem as sweet as life, Could we together be." Now, though we two were parted By such a distance wide, By such a strange and viewless realm, By such a boundless tide, Her gentle face was radiant With a surpassing bliss; She was happier in that distant land, Than she ever was in this. And in some other tenderness, Some other love divine, She had found a peace and happiness, She never found in mine. So with a tender chiding, I could not quite suppress, Though well my darling knew I would not make her pleasures less. "Are you happy, love?" I said, "Are you happy, love, without me?" Then she raised her gentle head, And twined her arms about me; Yet while my tears fell faster, Beneath her mute caress, Her face had all the glory Of a sainted soul at rest; And her voice was sweet as music, "I am happy--I am blest." "Do you know how lonely-hearted I have been each weary day, Praying that each passing hour Would bear my life away, That we might be united Upon that distant shore?" "Laurence, we are not parted, I am with your evermore." "I cannot see you, darling, Your face I cannot see." "Can you see the moon's white fingers, That leads the pleading sea? Can you see the fragrance lingering Where summer roses be? The soft winds tender clasping, The close-enwrapping air Enfolding you--Oh, Laurence, I am with you everywhere."